


Astray from the Path Direct

by savvyliterate



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara doesn’t want the Doctor. She had a bit of a crush on him, but that was eradicated thanks to Trenzalore. Thanks to him sitting in her lounge and sobbing over his wife at the mere mention of her name. She saved the archaeologist with the funny name and the space hair, because saving her was another way of saving him. Clara flops on her bed and stares at the ceiling, and for the first time in a very long time, she feels lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Astray from the Path Direct

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a fluffy Doctor/River response to the new "Rain Gods" minisode and quickly turned into a River and Clara friendship story. This is based upon the head canon that one of the Clara echoes in "The Name of the Doctor" saved River.

Clara divides her time in the TARDIS into two halves: B.R. and A.R. Not “before regeneration” and “after regeneration,” as one who knew she was there for his regeneration would think. But “Before River” and “After River.”

Really, it wasn’t even technically correct to say “Before River” as the Doctor was still very much married to River throughout Clara's entire time on the TARDIS, if the transition from grieving widower to sporting not-so-discreet hickeys peek above his collar are any indication. More accurate would be to say the time before Clara knew of River, that is knew of her beyond the references to Professor Song that the Doctor hurriedly rushed through at some point or another. In the early days of their friendship, there was always this shroud of sadness around the Doctor that Clara couldn’t quite put her finger on. She knew after her disastrous attempt to get a bedroom that she wasn’t the first to travel on the TARDIS with him. She wasn’t chuffed about that. It was a relief, really, to know there was more than one person out there gullible enough to travel with him.

But “After River” … “After River” was a completely different Doctor.

This Doctor is quicker with his smiles, and they are real smiles that actually light up his eyes. He’s far more relaxed, and Clara realizes with a very disturbing shudder that means he’s getting laid. Regularly. She’s a bit jealous of that, actually. He’s like a little boy eager to open his Christmas presents, and everything pales in comparison to what appears to be a long second honeymoon with his once-invisible wife. He’s quick to hurry Clara off to her bedroom when she lets out a single yawn or drops her off at home with a promise to be back the next week or in the morning, whichever came first.

“I don’t see why she can’t just travel with us,” Clara points out as the Doctor escorts her out of the TARDIS. “I did save her life. Well, one of me did. I don’t mind.”

“Yes, but our timelines are still relatively out of order,” he tells her as they walk out of the TARDIS together into the Maitlands’ front garden. “Can’t do to have earlier her stumble upon you now. Could make everything go out of whack.”

Clara snorts. “You just want to shag her without worrying I’ll walk in the room.”

The Doctor has the good grace to blush, and he adjusts his bow tie. “Off with you now, Clara Oswald. Christmas is coming, eh? Make sure I have something good in my stocking. I sent my Christmas list to your mobile. At least, I think it’s your mobile.”

“You’ll have a switch in it at this rate,” Clara mutters. “And just where am I supposed to find an original Rubik’s Cube from 1980?” She looks behind him, expecting a flippant answer, but he has gone – off to the waiting arms of his wife at some point in her timeline.  She smiles at the vacant space where the TARDIS was and tries to ignore the empty ache in her heart.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Angie asks flippantly as Clara walks in the house and removes her coat and scarf.

“With his wife,” Clara replies with a sigh and runs up the stairs before Angie could rub it in.

She doesn’t want the Doctor. She had a bit of a crush on him, but that was eradicated thanks to Trenzalore. Thanks to him sitting in her lounge and sobbing over his wife at the mere mention of her name. She saved the archaeologist with the funny name and the space hair, because saving her was another way of saving him. Clara flops on her bed and stares at the ceiling, and for the first time in a very long time, she feels lonely.

She’s nearly asleep when the doorbell rings, and she hopes that it’s Nina coming for Angie. She hears feet rushing up one flight of stairs, hesitating at the second flight that leads to her room.

“Hey!” Angie yells. “Some lady’s here to see you, Clara.”

With a groan, Clara drags herself up. “Tell her I’ll be there in a sec. Show her to the lounge, and be polite, please.”

Angie doesn’t say a word, and Clara is quite sure that petulant teenage snorting is occurring on the other side of the door. Angie goes back downstairs, and Clara pulls a brush through her hair and straightens her clothes.

She spots her when she reaches the foyer. You couldn’t miss all that hair or the one-way monologue as she did her very best to talk with Angie and Artie, who are clustered together and giving her calculating looks. Clara pastes a smile on and prays her charges won’t make an absolute muck of things. Then she wonders briefly on what level _she_ should address her. She hasn’t seen her since Trenzalore.

“Professor Song,” Clara decides and beams, pleased when the smile is geninue. “It’s good to see you again.” Alive, she adds silently, remembering the Doctor’s warning about meeting River at earlier points in her timeline.

“River,” she replies firmly and gives Clara a warm smile that makes the knot in her stomach loosen. “And your charges are not very subtle.”

“Angie, Artie, please make yourself scare,” Clara says through gritted teeth.

Angie crosses her arms over her chest. “Nu-uh. She’s the wife, right? You really think I’m gonna miss out on _this_ conversation?”

Clara closes her eyes and counts to 10. That’s it. She’s going to have to pull out the big guns. “So, Angie, you’re welcome to stay while River and I visit. And when we’re done, I’ll be happy to show your father a certain Facebook page you and Nina created to bully Lucy in your class.”

Angie bolts to attention. “How’d you know about that?”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere.” She eyes Angie. “Go to Nina’s. Now.”

“Can I go?” Artie asks.

“Go on,” Clara says, and he rushes after her sister. When they’re gone, she shakes her head. “I’m telling her dad anyhow,” she tells River as she walks in the kitchen to prepare tea. “The punishment’s gonna be hell, but she deserves it. Besides, the page is deactivated, so there’s not much she can do to the girl now.” She pulls down the teapot and sighs, staring into it. “I’m supposed to be setting a good example, but I can never seem to reach her. Not even that one adventure with the Doctor did any good.”

“It’s a cry for attention,” River observes and helps by filling the kettle. “She doesn’t feel anyone is listening to her, so she reacts by bullying others, including you. She wants to belong so much, but she doesn’t see what’s under her nose.”

Clara stares at her for a moment, forgetting that she’s making tea. “You sound like my mum.”

“I sound like someone who’s been there. Self-worth comes from within, and it’s a hard battle to fight.” River doesn’t forget the tea and flips the kettle on. “You can’t reach everyone, Clara.”

“No. But, I don’t want to give up on Angie.”

They’re silent as they assemble the tea and take their places on the sofa in the lounge. “When is this for you?” Clara asks. “I’m supposed to ask now. There’s rules about you, and I’m not sure I can remember them all.”

“You’re safe. We’re after Trenzalore. It’s why I’m here.” River reaches for a bag sitting on the coffee table and opens it. “I wanted to thank you for rescuing me from the Library.”

“It wasn’t all me.”

“It was enough of you,” she replies and pulls out a book. Clara perks up when she recognizes it as an old, old copy of _Summer Falls_. The copy she had upstairs belonged to her mother, but it was a copy bought in the 1970s, not the 1950s when it was originally printed. “I understand you’re a fan,” River says as she presents Clara with the book.

She takes it reverently, opening the front cover and gasping when she noticed the signature over the illustration. “It’s autographed by Amelia Williams!”

“Not just autographed. Keep going.”

Puzzled, Clara leafs gently through the book, treating the old tome with care. About midway through, a folded piece of paper fell into her lap. She set the book aside and unfolds the paper with equal care. “To my successor,” she reads aloud. “Thank you for making sure that the Doctor isn’t alone. All my love, Amelia Williams.” The letter drops as she realizes _who_ Amelia Williams was, and why her books had a magical otherworldly quality to them. “She traveled with him! Amelia Williams traveled with the Doctor!”

River grins. “She’s better known to him as Amy Pond.”

“You knew her?”

“Quite well.”

“How?”

River’s grin grows wider. “Amelia Williams is my mother.”

Clara shrieks and leaps back slightly, nearly tumbling off the couch in a move worthy of the Doctor. “ _You’re_ Amelia Williams’ daughter? The one she dedicated her first book to! Next, you’re going to tell me you’re Melody Malone!”

River merely casts her gaze to the ceiling. With a yelp, Clara leaps from the couch and dashes up the stairs. Moments later, she returns with a battered paperback in hand, purchased years ago in a thrift shop because she knew Amelia Williams had penned an afterword that was considered to be a coded message to an unknown person. She holds the book up and compares the cover with River. “You _are_ her! Then the coded message?”

“Not-so-coded to its recipient.” River takes the book and gazes at it with amusement and a hint of sadness. “He tore out the last page of his copy upon the first read. Bless. Mother put it in there, because she remembered he did that, and because I realized it for what it was. It was a message to the Doctor.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Clara asks, because trying to figure out the timey-wimeyness of it all was starting to make her head ache.

“Because, my sweetie can be thick as a stump. I realized he wasn’t bringing you around when he visited, and I know that it’s easy to feel like you’ve been abandoned even though you just gave your life for his. He’s too good at segmenting his life into different parts.”

“Like the parts he spends with me versus the ones he spends with you?”

“Exactly. He’s used to it, because my parents and I had the same relationship with him. He would take them off on adventures, and while they were sleeping, we would be together. It was something that worked for us, because we all knew we needed space. It’s a long story, one that your echoes figured out some of. The very best times was when we all had adventures together.”

“I just figured he didn’t want me around when the two of you are shagging your way across the console room.” Clara frowns. “I hope you disinfect the place when you’re done.”

River laughs, and it is warm and lyrical and makes Clara smile in response. She reaches for her now-cold tea and rests the mug in her lap.

“I am jealous,” she admits. “But not in the way you think.” She toys with her mug. “The TARDIS hated me for so long, but I think it’s because she missed you. She thought I was taking your place.”

“We’ve had quite a long chat about _that_.”

“Well. Good.” Clara traces a finger around the rim of her mug. “I kind of feel like a third wheel. I think maybe it’s time for me to stop traveling. I’ve seen a lot of things. But, I don’t know what’s next.” She meets River’s gaze. “I’ve got a degree in elementary education. Economy meant I couldn’t find a job right away, so I wound up helping the Maitlands. Don’t have a bloke. Not even sure I want one. It’s just … ever since Trenzalore, I feel like that leaf. I wonder if the Doctor left part of me behind after all, and I’m just going to drift through the rest of my life not really belonging anywhere.”

“Do you think that place is here?” River indicates the lounge, and Clara knows what she means.

“No. No, I think it’s time for me to find some place else. I just want some place to belong. Like you and the Doctor belong with each other.”

“Your father?”

“Yeah, there’s Dad. I love him. But, he’s a bit of a conspiracy nut.” Clara shakes her head with a fond smile.

“You’ll find that place, Clara.”

“How do you know?”

“Spoilers.” River takes a sip of her tea. “There’s a good reason why the Doctor cautioned you about knowing where you are in my timeline.”

“You mean you’ve seen my future?”

River raises an eyebrow and drinks more tea.

With an excitement she hadn’t felt since Trenzalore, Clara abandons her tea. She hugs the copy of _Summer Falls_ to her chest. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear this, to be reassured that she wasn’t stuck in a perpetual limbo. She could see it in her mind, that leaf drifting back to her that anchored her to this life. The Doctor had restored most of her sense of self. His wife had finished it, and it seemed right that she had. All those Claras adrift in time, saving the Doctor time after time. But now that goal was finished, and she would find a new path in life, one all of her own.

“Now, best be off before him indoors and my younger self return. Not much younger. Still post-Trenzalore, and one that’s delivered a blistering lecture to him about having adventures with all three of us.” River takes one more item out of her bag. She passes a hardcover book bound in red leather to Clara. A gold leaf is embossed on the cover with swirls decorating the background.  “I advise you to start keeping this diary. Trust me. You’re going to need it.”

As Clara takes the journal, River leans over and brushes a kiss over her cheek. With a wink, she presses a button on a thick black device she had strapped to one wrist. Clara grins at the empty space as she hears the TARDIS materialize in the distance.


End file.
